keptherwaiting | 1950 / Vermont

1950 / Vermont

It happens so fast.

He's not even sure what happened?

Only, they'd stopped for gas.

And Alice had gone off into the town on foot, further down the way, while the boutique was still open before closing for the night. She needed more stockings.

Charlotte and Peter had stepped into the tiny shop attached to the station to look at the novelties, books and magazines and sundries.

Jasper had been with the attendant, filling the gas, had heard the glass break, and then -

Peter, coming out, looking wild-eyed, fresh blood on his breath.

Someone screaming.

Jasper shouldering past Peter, the attendant following.

Charlotte had a woman by the neck.

Another dead on the ground.

The attendant reacting, reaching for the phone or a shotgun, something behind the counter, and Jasper, he couldn't let -

He had to.

Right?

(He'd wanted to.)

"God, Jasper. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Peter is saying repeatedly. "The guy was drunk and he broke the glass bottle. His hand - "

Charlotte, calm enough, making it look like a murder, not a rampage.

"Just - just, get in the car. We have to go," Jasper says to Peter, shoving him toward the door, toward the car. "You drive. Charlotte, c'mon. We have to go."

They have to get Alice and -

And -

Fuck. Goddamnit.

Jasper is hunkered down in the backseat when Peter slows the car to pull up to the curb and collect Alice, just out of view from the brighter lights of the main street.

Alice, who'd already been waiting for them.

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She’d seen it.

The split second between the glass breaking and Jasper pushing past the doors. She’d stopped, wheeled around, stopped again.

She’d seen herself slip too if she went back.

She waited, not breathing, terror filling her bones. She doesn’t buy the stockings. She just waits.

And then Peter pulls up, looking frantic, almost ashamed. She’s not mad. He looks like he’s afraid she’ll be mad. Charlotte looks calmer and Jasper—

Jasper.

Alice slips into the back seat, pushing herself into Jasper’s space to begin unbuttoning his shirt. “There’s some woods outside town,” she tells Peter. “Go down the Main Street, take a left just outside the limit. Come on, Jasper, we gotta get this off—“

Peter follows the directions, pulling away from the curb in not too of a hurry to appear suspicious, but also faster than perhaps needed. He is frantic. Worried. More so for his part in involving Jasper than the act itself.

Jasper reaches over the seat to squeeze his shoulder, to calm him, pulling that calm from Charlotte, who is mostly unrepentant. To her, they are what they are.

"It's fine, Alice. It's only a little on the shirt. We'll get rid of it."

He feels a little weird, stripping off his clothes in the back of the car - even though it's nothing they haven't all seen - and the blood on his breath and the red of his eyes are the worst of it.

"Charlotte made it look like they'd all gotten into a fight," he's murmuring as he pushes the shift off his shoulders. "There was a shotgun behind the register. It must've been from the splatter."

She just takes the clothing from him, carefully folding it up so the blood isn’t showing, so she’s not affected. Her eyes shift back to Jasper, taking in the red—how quickly it overwhelms the gold.

He probably feels fantastic. Like he could take on the world. Alice just feels like a rock is doing somersaults in her stomach.

They’ll have to leave Peter and Charlotte. They’ll have to go to the Cullens sooner rather than later. This is a domino in a precarious line. She doesn’t know how to tackle this conversation. It can wait.

Peter pulls into the forest and she tells him to drive as long as he can. When finally they park, Alice is out in a flash, instructing Charlotte to push the cigarette lighter in on the console. When it burns red, she tosses it on the shirt, letting it ignite.

“Any blood on either of you?”

"I don't think so," Charlotte says, checking herself over.

Peter shrugs off the jacket he'd been wearing, dark enough to hide the stains on the cuff, yet it joins the burning shirt.

Jasper is rummaging through the trunk, trying to find another shirt to wear. He does feel fantastic. He feels great. He doesn't even realize he's whistling some peppy tune that had been on the radio.

Peter moves to Alice's side, apologizing, "I'm sorry. It was my fault." He casts a glance at Jasper. "He'll come down soon. It's Charlotte keeping him calm right now. When we realized what was making him depressed - "

Jasper slams the trunk closed, the car bouncing from the rough movement. "I'm fine," he snarls, having heard the whispering. He's right here, after all.

Charlotte, now looking somewhat more repentant, glances between Alice and him. "Perhaps we should leave you two to talk?"

Alice jumps at the trunk slamming, her nod to Charlotte a weird little jerk of her head. The other woman reaches out, touching Alice’s arm before she and Peter wander off toward the trees.

She doesn’t look at Jasper for a long moment, instead toeing out the fire as it dwindles, scuffing dirt over the burnt remains of his shirt and Peter’s jacket.

She doesn’t know how to start.

“This...shifted things,” she tries, her voice small. “We...um, we will need to head west sooner.”

" - What do you mean, west?"

Jasper's doing up the buttons of his new shirt, staring at her, head cocked to the side in confusion.

What was west? What did west have to do with anything?

"Alice, I'm fine. I'm sorry about the trunk, I'll fix the dent - " Because it left one, a sizable hand print - "It's just what Peter was saying, I didn't - I'm fine."

(He's not though, is he? He's growing more agitated by the minute, more anxious, and he's trying to ignore it because - )

"I feel good."

He feels like he could run and another hunt sounds great too. He'd forgotten what it tasted like. How much better it was.

"It's not like Peter says. I can handle this. I'm not upset."

He's not, as long as he doesn't think about how young the attendant had been, what fear had felt like when he'd gotten his teeth into him. What the pain of dying felt like.

He swallows, hard.

"I can handle it."

Her head shakes of its own accord, it must, because she can’t remember making the choice to make the movement. Her hands shake. She wants to hug him. She wants to back away.

His breath is sweet with the scent of blood. Her inhale is shaky.

“To the Cullens.” Alice whispers, her voice flat. She fiddles with the sleeve of her sweater, the rings on her fingers. “They’re west.”

She doesn’t tell him he can’t handle it. That would be unfair. She steps a little closer, hating to be so far away, waiting for the dam to break.

“Charlotte’s gone,” she says, her hands reaching for him. “Far enough in the forest now that her calm is wearing away. Jasper, it’s okay—“

He takes a step back from her outstretched hands.

He feels a lot - great and not great, sick to his stomach and not sick to his stomach, alive and dead.

His head is spinning.

"Charlotte wasn't keeping me calm. I am calm," he says, and the words come out as a growl. A snarl.

He didn't mean for them to, it's just -

"The Cullens? We don't need the Cullens. We're great, you and I. We've been doing great. Why do we need them? It was just this one time, and I'm fine. We can have this. Us. It can just be us. I'll go back to eating animals."

Though he grimaces as he says so because he can't imagine going back to the animal thing now. So what if -

"Or - or, and just hear me out, you can continue with your diet, and I'll hunt regularly. Not regularly, as in all the time, just every now and then. Just enough to get by. It won't affect me. I'm not affected by it. I've more control over my feelings, being around humans. You've taught me that. And I'll get better at it."

He hasn't even realized he's gone to his knees, like he's begging her.

Alice cringes at his snarl, her hands coming back to herself, holding them against her chest. And then he’s on his knees and she feels terrible.

“No,” she whispers, her hair flying around her chin as she shakes her head vehemently. “No, it’s. You won’t be okay. I’ve seen it, Jasper, it’s okay, but we can’t do it alone, we—I—need help.”

She’s not strong enough to keep them both afloat forever.

"A coven is not going to help."

The words are torn from him, carried on the wind, a shout.

Quieted only by the fear that follows:

"You don't know what they're like."

His now red eyes are wild, frantic, pleading.

"They'll change us."

He flits to her side, so quickly, so full of life (and death and fear). His hands reach for her, fingers finding her skirt, the fabric balled and twisted in his grip. He's still on his knees.

"Please. You don't need help. I don't need help."

He’s scaring her. Not physically, not—she trusts him, implicitly. But he’s so all over the place and she doesn’t know what to do, what to say.

Her eyelashes flutter as she looks down at him, her fingers ghosting over his face. “They’re not a coven,” she whispers, the words feeling feeble out of her mouth. “I do know—it’s been one of only two absolute certainties I’ve been sure of.”

Him. And them.

“They’ll love us,” not change them and it becomes: “I’ve changed you. You’ve already changed, Jasper, they won’t change you further, unless it’s a change you want. But I do need their help. I can’t—you can’t live like this.”

Jasper can't see it. How he's scaring her.

He's too all over the place to see it.

To find the reason in her words.

He feels scared.

And it angers him.

" - No. We're not going."

Her head tilts, sharply.

She’s aware his emotions may be fueling hers. It doesn’t make it better.

“We are,” she snaps, sharp. “Or—I am.”

Jasper scoffs.

"No, you're not."

Because that would mean she'd be going without him and that is ridiculous.

It is ridiculous, right?

He releases her skirt, backing away from her with a frown.

Alice deflates a little, when he lets go of her skirt. It’s easier to bluster when he’s right there in her space. She doesn’t want to go anywhere without him.

But she can’t do this, live like that—she’s not made to kill people. And he hates it, no matter how good he feels right now.

“Jasper,” she sighs. “You’re coming with me. We’re going to find them. We will be happy there, I promise you that.”

After a slight learning curve, perhaps.

“Trust me, okay? If you don’t trust them, just trust me.”

The momentary thought that she might leave him brings him back to himself.

If not entirely, a little. Enough to hear what's she saying.

Trust me.

He does -

" - Of course, I do."

He looks down at himself, knees in the dirt, and he shudders, his whole body just wracked with guiltfearshamedreadfoolishdespairpanickysick.

If he could sink further, dig himself a six foot hole.

"Fuck. I do, I do trust you."

He closes his eyes, fingers dragging through his curls.

"But a coven - "

She comes to his side, crouching down next to him. An odd looking pair if anyone were to see them—her, all perfect curls, scuffless shoes and makeup and him, hands in his hair, his knees marked with the dirt he kneels in.

Alice’s hand ghosts over his hair again, as if she’s afraid to touch him, and heartbreakingly, she realizes she is. He’s hurting, she’s afraid of making it worse.

“I promise it’s not a coven, not like before,” she’s near begging him now, to listen and understand. “They’re a family, Jasper. Not like Maria. Even more than Gabriel and Adelaide. There’s love and kindness.”

" - Why can't we just be a family?"

He's struggling to understand any of it right now.

He wants to, he thinks? He doesn't know.

He feels torn and flayed open right now.

He'd said he'd give her anything, go wherever she wanted, and he wants to be more than this shell of a thing, be better and perfect for her.

We are, is what she should say. What she wants to say.

But they can have more. She’s seen it, clearer and clearer every vision she has of them, the Cullens, Edward.

“I don’t want to argue,” she says. No, wait. That’s wrong—it sounds like she’s saying they’re not a family. “I mean that...we are, a family, but—“

It’s confusing—what’s her emotion and what’s his? She feels torn and flayed open but there’s a blind panic too, she can’t parse what is what. She hurts, for him, because of him? That doesn’t feel right either. Helpless: “I love you, Jasper, I’m trying to help you.”

"You are helping me."

He moves quickly, cupping her face in his hands as he pleads with her:

"Just give me more time. Please. I love you. We can figure this out."

He feels like he's begging for his life, and maybe he feels he has to beg.

- there are places in our world, where the life span of the never-ending was measured in weeks, and not centuries -

If she joins the Cullens, if they don't want him, if she no longer wants him.

"We're doing this together, Jasper," her hands fly to his on her face, holding them against her cheeks as she stares at him, trying so hard to understand why he seems so afraid.

"I'm not leaving you, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made it sound like I am, but I'm not staying here. Peter and Charlotte's diet is going to get us in trouble, my love. It's going to hurt you more--I'm just trying--"

Alice breaks off, turning her head to kiss his palm quickly, before he can pull away from her.

She kisses his palm and her tenderness with him breaks his heart.

He's never felt more afraid of losing someone.

He knows he's not thinking rationally. Not entirely. Everything is too much right now. It always is, after. He knows he's overwhelmed.

Even more so because he's feeling Alice now too, her concern, her fears and worries. Her love.

He knows, and knows, and yet -

"But if you decide you're better off with them, the Cullens," he murmurs. "And I'm not?"

"That's not going to happen."

She's seen it. She knows.

"I know my visions aren't the end all and be all but they haven't failed me yet. And these are getting stronger, more crisp with every day. We're meant to find them now, this is just a catalyst."

There are so many what ifs.

She's so sure, though.

As sure as she was when he'd met her in the diner, about him.

He looks away from her, off toward the direction that Peter and Charlotte had gone. He knows they haven't left, just gone far enough to give Alice and him the privacy they needed.

He feels like he has only the two choices: Follow them, or Alice.

And Alice won't stay. She'd said as much.

And he can't leave her.

So is there any choice for him at all?

"Okay."

She's nervous about that okay.

It makes her freeze, expecting more of a fight, expecting anger, sadness, not just...blind obedience. But isn't that what she asked for?

Trust me, she had said. I'm going, with or without you, she had implied.

"Okay," Alice nods, rocking back on her heels. "Um, okay. I need to um. Look ahead, see where exactly they are. I can tell Peter and Charlotte, if you'd rather."

She rambles, as if worried in silence he will realize how unfair this all is. How selfish she is, worried he'll realize he's better off without her.

"I do know that no one is coming through here for a while, unless we give them reason to. Should be safe to start a fire if we want, to gather around, or something..."

"No, I'll tell them. I'll fine them," he says, coming to his feet with the same quickness in his movements as before, and only a little wobbly in the knees.

He's still overwhelmed, feeling too much.

He needs a moment.

A walk.

A run.

Something.

"Start a fire, sure."

She stays crouched for a moment, before unfolding herself and standing with a gracefulness she doesn't feel. There's trepidation here--a feeling in the pit of her stomach that something will go wrong.

But she can't see it, not yet. He hasn't made any decisions other than something and everything is hazy and hangs between them.

"Maybe...not." Alice murmurs, flitting to his side with speed, her hand closing around his wrist. "Stay here, for a little longer."

He doesn't pull away from her grasp, only glances down at her fingers wrapped around his wrist as he's pulled to a stop.

His jaw clenches, a twitch.

"I'm just going for a walk. To find Peter and Charlotte."

But it sounds like a lie now, even to him.

Alice takes in the jaw clench, the look at her hand.

She rearranges her fingers around his wrist to hold him tighter.

"No," she tells him, sharper, eyes wide. "You're lying. Stay with me."

It comes out harsher than she means, but the visions are clearing--she can't let him leave.

"I'm not - "

But he cuts himself off with a growl, a huff.

He looks upward, toward the sky.

"What do you want from me? I already said I'd stay with you."

That comes out harsher than he means too.

"I want you to want to." She whispers, dropping his wrist. "And I want you to stay here because every future of you going off into that forest ends badly, Jasper."

How does she tell him he has to be watched? How does she say that and not hurt him?

"I don't know how to tell you these things," Alice trembles. "I never wanted to have to."

The tremble in her voice has him turning toward her. What she says has his jaw unclenching.

"Just tell me them," he murmurs. He covers the hand on his wrist with his own.

"I didn't - I wasn't planning to do anything."

But he can see how something might have happened now.

Just like before. At the stop for gas.

And all that he feels? It could've been anything.

He tugs her toward him, into a hug. "I love you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm such a mess right now."

Her lower lip trembles as he brings her in for a hug, her fingers twisting into his shirt as she leans against him.

"If you...continue this," Alice whispers, her lips moving against the fabric of his shirt. "You'll be miserable. Living with the Cullens will take adjustments...adjustments I can't quite account for just yet, but, you will be happy there. And you won't have to feel the pain you feel now, or will if you go back into town."

Her words are hurried, tumbling out quickly as she holds onto him. "I love you too," she adds, pulling back to look up at him. "And don't apologize for that--it's understandable."

He's listening to her now, trying to imagine what she says to be true.

All he has is his past to compare it to.

She looks at him then, and all he wants to do is curl around her, hold her or have her hold him.

Jasper finds it hard to argue with her, to doubt her.

Everything she has done or said to him since he'd met her has been nothing but true and sincere. His life has really been better since he'd met her and, if she thinks - knows - that the Cullens are a way for them to be together with a forever in mind, he supposes he needs to give them a try.

"Okay," he murmurs again, this time with more surety.

This time, she believes him.

"Come here," Alice whispers, standing on her tiptoes to curl her hand at his neck. She drags him down to press their foreheads together, breath held to not smell the blood on him. She'll need to inhale after speaking again, but it'll be okay.

It'll be okay.

"I love you," she cups his face, pushing up on her toes further to kiss his cheeks, the corner of his mouth. "It's going to be alright. I promise, Jasper."

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1950 / Vermont

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